Captured Hearts
by yaoigirl22
Summary: AU: During a raid of an illegal slave trade, Aramis and Athos find two slaves named Porthos and D'Artagnan. OTP4 pairing
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Musketeers.**

**Pairings: Athos/D'Artagnan/Porthos/Aramis**

**Warnings: Abuse, whipping, rape, slavery, underage (D'Artagnan is fifteen) **

**A/N: This is a prompt filled at **

**Enjoy!**

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**Captured Hearts **

They came during the winter, when few would question the disappearance of others, the iron door slams open and chains rattle as they're brought in, one by one they are unshackled and pushed into a cell. He's surprised when his door opens, even more surprised when a body is thrown in.

The child is small and thin, his whole body shakes, dark eyes red and wet stare frightfully at the shadows not knowing it would be the least of his worries, a crack of a whip and screaming had the child jumping and whimpering.

He could be no more than five years of age.

A babe in the jaws of Hell, and the Devil's hand around his neck.

"Enjoy your new cellmates" says the Slave Master, his laughter bouncing off the dirty walls as he leaves.

When the Slave Master's echoing footsteps fade away and the iron door closes with a slam does he stand from his corner, chains jingling as he moves towards the child curious, he doesn't know why they decided to put this child in here with him, he, unlike the others, is confined to solitaire.

The child shuffles back until his back hits the bars, trapped large dark eyes stare frightful up at him. He couches down so he doesn't tower over the boy, he leans and takes a sniff, he is greeted with a smell he recognized as something earthly, it is a surprisingly comforting scent.

"Hello" he says, voice raspy from disuse, ignoring the crying and pleas coming from the other cells, soon they will learn that tears are best left unshed and pleas will remain unanswered (if they're lucky).

"What's your name?" he asks.

"D-D-D'Artagnan" comes the response, voice low and frightened.

"I'm Porthos" he says, and tries for a smile, judging from D'Artagnan's look he doesn't succeed.

"Where's my Mama and Papa?" comes the question, and Porthos does not hesitant in answering.

"Dead" he says empathy having been lost to him long ago.

The child cries and cries until his tears are all dried up and he's curled up in the corner asleep, body demanding rest. In the other corner, Porthos sits and stares at the child.

If he is lucky, the child will not survive the winter, but Porthos knows there is no luck, no luck or hope. For now, the child is too young (though it will not be a problem if a buyer with a big sack of money and a taste for the young comes along) though that does not make him safe. D'Artagnan shivers, and Porthos takes the thin dirty blanket and wraps it around the child before lifting him in his arms and onto his lap.

In the dark, Porthos makes a promise.

**10 years later**

He's surrounded by screaming, yelling, and nameless faces; he cares not for them but for his opponent. His opponent towers him with his impressive height, body stacked with muscles and murder in his eyes.

"_This should be fun" _he thinks sarcastically as the man circles him.

His opponent lunges at him; the large man is slow in movement, depending on his strength to take down his opponents, he decides to use that to his advantage as he spins out the way. A punch is thrown his way, he grabs the fist before it hits his face and quickly delivers one of his own hitting his opponents' below his breastbone. The large man wheezes and doubles over, he grabs the man by the hair and punches him in the face, again and again.

The nameless faces, scream and yell louder.

With a grunt the large man breaks free, tearing his hair in the process, surprised he is unable to dodge when the man tackles him to the ground, a thick arm wrap around his neck and squeezes, with a growl he bites down hard breaking skin, his opponent yells and his hold goes lacks. Using the opening his knees the man hitting him in the groin, with his opponent whimpering in pain, he rolls them over until he is straddling the man and his hands are around his neck squeezing.

The man struggles to break free, but he is unrelenting, and only let's go when the man is no longer breathing.

Getting off of the now dead body, he looks around him, the nameless faces have gone quiet. He cares not from them as his dark eyes fix themselves on one man among them, his Slave Master, who frowns at him. Never looking away as he was grabbed, shackled, and taken away to a back room.

No sooner does the door closes does it reopen and his Slave Master comes in along with another Slave Master who was not happy.

"No" says the angry Master.

"Now, now, no need to dismiss so quickly, you saw how well he did out there"

"He killed my fighter!" snaps the Slave Master, "my prized fighter"

"Well these things happen" Bonnaire says with a small smile, "and now I'm giving you a new one, at a price of course"

The Slave Master takes in the other's smile he knows was mostly business then at the slave standing quietly bruised and bleeding; he went over to the slave. He grabs the slave's jaw and forces his mouth open; he found good strong and healthy teeth. Skin was tight with youth, covered in scars and muscles that after today he knew the Slave knew how to use them, and while his wasn't a tall as his previous fighter his height was still impressive towering over everyone in the room even the guards that where flanking him. The Slave's back is practically covered in whip lases, going back to the front, he looked at the Slave's eyes; they were dark and had a feral look to them.

"No" the Slave Master then says to Bonnaire, "he's too wild"

"But—"

"I said no!"

Bonnaire closes his mouth, he blinks before sighing.

"Alright" he agrees before placing on his smile, "how about a different one? Lower in price but sure to give your audience a good show, I'll even throw in another for your personal pleasure"

Moments later, both Slave and Master leave the room, with two other men, and Bonnaire's purse heavier.

When they arrive at the large blue tent, Labarge, the other Slave Master and Bonnaire's business partner was waiting at the entrance.

"Couldn't sell it" Labarge stated when saw the slave, eyes narrowing in suspicion when he saw the two men standing impatiently behind Bonnaire.

"Afraid not, but Porthos here did win me a rather large amount of money from the fight and I was able to convince our dear friend to by two slaves. These fine gentlemen are here to pick up their Master's purchases"

With a look to the two other men by the tent, they and Bonnaire escorted the other men into the tent, Labarge grabs holds of the chain that was attached to the shackle around Porthos's neck and roughly tugs.

"Come on, back in the cage"

Porthos walks, when they get to his cage he's pushed in, the moment Labarge leaves gentle hands take hold of his. Fingers caressed the bruising there, darks eyes looked up into his, worry in them. Those same hands reach up and cradle his face; Porthos's nuzzles into those hands into his own bigger ones and leads the other to the back of the cage. He sits down bringing the other with him, the other Slave lets himself be moved until he was settled between the other's legs and large arms wrapped themselves around his waist and a nose pressed itself against the skin of his neck.

Porthos takes a deep breathe, and the earthly scent that has remain throughout the years relaxes his body, he gives a pleased hum when the small body leans back against his chest. Neither move until the tent's entrance flaps opens hours later.

Porthos tenses, arms tightening and lips lifting into a snarl when Bonnaire along with a guard stops in front of their cage.

"Why must you always give me that look Porthos?" Bonnaire sighs as the guard slides in two bowls of stew; one having more portions then the other, along with two loafs of bread. "It won't do you or D'Artagnan any good in the long run" he continues on.

Neither Porthos nor D'Artagnan moves towards the food, unlike the other Slaves who scramble for their food.

"Still don't see why you bother talking to it, or even giving it more portions" grumbles Labarge as he enters.

"Better quality, better sales" Bonnaire sighs to his partner, "I've been telling you this for years, why have you not gotten the understanding of this? As for the extra portions, it's his reward for winning the fight as our agreement isn't that right Porthos"

The slave growled.

Chuckling Bonnaire moved away towards his business partner, it was only until it was just the slaves and the cages did Porthos gently remove D'Artagnan from his lap and towards the food. He tosses the bread to the younger before taking the two bowls and moving back to D'Artagnan.

One loaf of bread was split between them while the other was hidden for when there are days they had to go without food, the stew (which consisted of vegetable and unwanted meats given to the Slave Masters by butchers) was eaten, Porthos giving half of his to D'Artagnan.

**10 Years Ago**

Labarge is a cruel Slave Master, deprived of any kind human kindness; the slaves in his care live in content fear.

Even his men are weary of him.

Emile Bonnaire is an explorer, but mostly a business man, his fast talking and easy-going nature had made many fall under his spell.

So though it was strange, it wasn't to surprising when the two began a partnership, and it seems to work. Bonnaire handles the sales while Labarge handles the merchandise, collecting and breaking in new slaves. As for the reasons why, the two were silent though many knew it was mostly money for Labarge.

"He's rather small, are you sure he's the age of five?" Bonniare ask as he stares at the sleeping child curled up in Porthos's lap, the other slave, snarling at the two, "Porthos seems to like him" he then notes.

"That surprised us too, thought the mutt would have killed him last night or eaten him" Labarge says behind him, "hadn't fed him in about three weeks"

"Labarge" Bonnaire sighs a long suffering sigh as he turns to the other man, "how many times do I have to tell you, I don't mind you beating them, bruises with fade. I'll even let the occasional whipping slip by; I'll even turn a blind eye to you and your men 'tasting' some of the product"

Here Labarge grins and Porthos snarls, chains rattling as he moves closer to the wall.

"He broke one of my men's leg" the cruel Master then complains.

"It'll heal; let me finish, now as I was saying. I'll even allow the occasional missed meal as punishment, but I will not allow complete starvation, healthy looking slaves means more money, and I know how you love your money"

The greed in the man's eyes told the other that he hit the mark, even before the large man nods.

"I'm glad we've come to an agreement, now feed him and the boy"

Labarge grunts, before yelling over one of his man at the door to bring food, then watches as Bonnaire takes out a roll of keys, "what's he's name?" the man asks as he searches for the right key.

Labarge shrugs never understanding his partner's strange quirk for knowing the slaves names, rolling his eyes but not surprised by the answer. Bonnaire finally finds the right key and opens the cell door, the moment he steps in he pauses as Porthos growls at him.

The slave (eighteen years of age now) had always been wild, ever since Labarge brought him in six years ago, always unpredictable. He even hurt a couple of slaves, which was why he was alone instead of two or three like the others. No matter what Labarge does to him, he still won't break.

The slave was a fighter.

Bonnaire couldn't wait to see what he does in the fighting ring tomorrow night, though he prefer to see it with his body parts intact.

"Don't even think about it mutt" Labarge threatens one hand fingering the whip attached to his hip.

Porthos eyes it, he looks down at the child's in his lap blissful unaware of the danger, he removes the child from his lap, awakening him.

"Good boy" Bonnaire says and moves closer.

Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, it takes the child a moment to notice Bonnaire, when he does he shrinks back and shuffle closer to Porthos, who watches.

"Hey now, no need for that" the Slave Master says with a smile.

Porthos has seen that smile numerous of times when the man was trying to make a sell.

The child gives him a weary look.

"My name is Bonnaire, what's yours?"

"…..D'Artagnan" comes the hesitant answer.

It was then that D'Artagnan notices the other Master and whimpers.

"Don't worry about him, he won't hurt you"

No one blamed the child for the look he gives the man for that statement.

"He won't hurt you" Bonnaire continues, "but only if you do what your told, if you do that, no harm will come to you, I promise."

Labarge was a cruel man, a cruel Master, but Emile Bonnaire was crueler.

**Present**

The underground slave trade had been formed not long after King Louis XIII took the throne and outlawed slavery in France, it was a complicated system and one had to go through many channels just to get to an location alone.

"We're currently stationed on the outskirts of France's territory, once we cross the border my men will be waiting to lead us through the route into Paris undetected and to our bas of operation for the next couple of weeks" Bonnaire says as he looks over the map spread out on the table.

"I still say it's too risky" Labarge grumbles in his cup of wine, "we'll be hanged if we get caught"

"We won't" Bonniare reassures, eyes still on the map.

When morning came, everything was packed up and they headed for Paris.

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_**Review Please!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Captured Hearts**

**10 Years Ago**

It was days after D'Artagnan was thrown into his cell when the iron door opened, Porthos eyes instantly opened, asleep in his arms the child shifted in his arms but didn't wake.

"All of them are to be shackled and taken to the yard" says Labarge, "even the mutt and boy"

Footsteps echoed, as they drew closer Porthos woke D'Artagnan and placed the yawning child on his feet, the older Slave stood just as the cell door opened, and three guards came in, two of them with whips in their hands while the other held shackles. Porthos already shackled remained still (ignoring the other guards ordering him to move) and watched as shackles where placed onto D'Artagnan, he felt his lips twitched as the guard stared dumbfounded at the shackles that were too large iron for the thin wrists.

"Um, boss" called the guard.

Labarge came over, when he saw the problem he raised a brow, "I doubt he'll give us any trouble" the Slave Master then said.

Once all the slaves were shackled and taken out their cells (with D'Artagnan pretty much attached to his leg), they were lined up in a straight line and then chained, before being led out into what Labarge and the men called the yard, which consisted of nothing more than dirt, the hot sun depending on the season and a wooden post, chained to the post face front was a female slave.

"This slave" Labarge said standing in front of the assembled slaves, a cruel glint in his eyes "has been disobedient; disobedience will not be tolerated and as such must be punished"

With whip in hand, the Slave Master went over to the trembling woman.

The crack of the whip hitting flesh the new slaves jump, but what made them shiver was the scream the female let out, the second time Labarge brought the whip down again the new slaves looked away, D'Artagnan didn't, his dark eyes watched as the Slave Master whipped the woman, watched as blood spilt and stained the ground.

Porthos watched, body tensed as he remembered his own first punishment, remembered the sharp burning pain, the smell of blood, screaming.

It was the silence that brought him out of haunting thoughts; he looked at the post to see the slave slumped over it, Labarge was now standing back in front of the row of slaves, whip in hand; there was blood on both it and him.

"I hope the lesson has been learned" the Slave Master says.

He then leaves them standing with the slave and the cold winter air, Porthos looks away from the slave chained to the post, to the others. Many of the new slaves looked pale, eyes dimmed with the starting realization that they were not going to be freed, the older slaves merely stared ahead eyes blank. Looking down at the small body trembling more with fear then cold clinging to his body he concluded that the lesson was indeed learned.

**Present**

At first it was merely a whisper of a rumor, spoken in hushed voices between those of the questionable nature; soon that rumor grew and grew until it was no longer a rumor.

There are Slave Traders in Paris.

"The rumor about the Slave Traders had been confirmed to be true, the King and Queen are not happy, and wants this situation dealt with as quickly as possible" Caption Treville said, looking at his two best that stood before the desk he was sitting behind.

"So the plan?" asked Aramis.

"I was able to find out that one of the Slave Traders is entering one of his slaves in an Underground fighting ring two days from now, if we can find and follow him, we can find the location of the hideout and take them down" Treville says.

The Underground fighting ring in Paris was similar to the Court of Miracles in the sense that it was known, but unlike the Court of Miracles the King was in no hurry to get rid of the Underground fighting ring, the King figured it was best if the people had some kind of outlet rather than start an uprising. Occasionally there would be a Slave fighter, but it was rare and so the King didn't bother with it as it was hard to identify which ones were slaves and which ones voluntarily entered the ring.

"Do we have a name to go with the Slave Trader?" Athos asked.

"Bonnaire, Emile Bonnaire"

After they were dismissed for the rest of the day, with instructions to return to the Captain's office two days from now, the two headed to the home they shared. It was a two story house with three bedrooms that Athos had brought; when he had brought the house he had been desperate for a change after his wife and really had just brought the first house that had been for sell. Aramis moving in had been just weeks after Savoy, and Athos not liking that his brother was alone at night.

Neither talked about those times, just as they do not talk about Athos's drinking or Aramis nightmares.

"Looks like Constance came by and cleaned again" Aramis remarked taking notice of the newly clean house.

Athos went into the kitchen and found fresh bread, in the fireplace was their black pot, removing the lid reveals a hot stew.

"Madame Bonacieux is an Angel sent from Heaven" Aramis sighed blissfully as he took a deep sniff.

Athos gives his not quite smile as he heads for the wine, by the time Aramis placed a bowl of stew and bread next to him Athos had downed three cups of wine, the two ate in silence. After eating Aramis left the kitchen, he came back with a book in hand, Athos had put away the dishes and resumed his drinking, Aramis sat next to him, opened his book and read.

Late into the night Aramis dragged Athos upstairs, ignoring the drunken ramblings from the other man, once in the room Aramis dumped the man on his bed, he took off the others shoes before turning to leave.

A warm hand takes hold of his.

Looking at the owner of said hand Aramis is met with pleading eyes, asking him to stay, to not leave him alone. Gently removing the other's hand, Aramis removes his own shoes before getting into bed, the moment he is settled; a warm body wraps itself around him.

It's just another thing they don't talk about.

**9 years ago**

It is winter once again when they are dragged out and lined up to be inspected, Labarge and his men move up and down the line, roughly probing the slaves, looking for any abnormalities . Two of the slaves are found with a fever and taken away, Porthos knows from experience that the two will be taken to another space locked up and fed draughts until they were well again, if not then Labarge will put them down.

Once the inspection was over they were put back in the cage.

Expect for Porthos.

Porthos is taken out to the yard, Labarge's men are waiting forming a circle, and the slave is pushed into the middle.

He was fighting today.

Porthos stands still as one of Labarge's men; a man equaled to the slave's size emerges from the crowd knuckles cracking and an eager grin.

"Have fun boys" Labarge says.

Porthos knows better than to put up a big fight, and beating any of Labarge's men would result in punishment, he knows these things, learnt through pain.

He still fights back, and he still beats each opponent.

Looking away from downed man that he had beaten (embarrassingly) into submission to Labarge, the Slave Master's eyes are dark with rage, the grip on the whip's handle as he moves towards Porthos (who is grabbed and forced on his knees) is so tight the slave was surprised it wasn't broken. Labarge raises the whip, ready to unleash his anger but then he pauses as though a thought came to him, he looks at Porthos studying him before; to the shock of everyone, he orders the slave back to his cell.

When he's pushed back into the cell (shackled and chained) and sitting down back pressed against the wall D'Artagnan is immediately at his side, looking worriedly at him, Porthos places the child in his lap. As D'Artagnan cuddles up against his chest gently touching a forming bruise, Porthos wonders what just happened.

He got his answer the next day.

He was up the moment the metal door opened, D'Artagnan pressed close to his side, their cell door is opened. Porthos readies himself to be taken only to blink when the two guards went pass him and take D'Artagnan; the child looks back at Porthos as he taken out the cell, eyes fearful and pleading. He hadn't realize he was moving until he hit the now closed door, his dark eyes watch them leave, heart pounding. When the metal door closes he starts to pace, the other slaves watch him; the older ones have never seen him in such a state.

Finally with what felt like years had gone by the metal door opens again, and D'Artagnan is returned to him.

The child is trembling; his body is bruised from head to toe.

Porthos slowly sinks to his knees; his rough hands are gentle as they come up to cradle the bruised cheeks, the boy cries, flowing tears full of fear and confusion. Shaking from voice to body, Porthos gently shushes the child.

"Don't cry" he says quietly, "don't cry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"

The next time he is taken from his cell and pushed into the circle of men.

He doesn't fight back.

**Present **

They travel through tunnels that run from the castle and the city walls, until they come to a marked door, Athos knocks, for a moment nothing happens then the door creaks open, and the two disguised Musketeers find themselves looking at an eyeball.

"Password?" says the eyeball.

"Never look away from the watching Angel" answers Aramis.

The door slams shut then reopens.

"Enjoy the fight"

"Thank you" Aramis says as he follows his partner through the door.

The two walk down the tunnel lit by torches, as they go deeper voices start to echo around them when they finally come to an opening even Athos is impressed with the sight. The room was designed just like the dueling tournament the King had when it fit his fancy, the wooden benches circled around the large ring where the Fighters would put on their show. The place was packed with men, some with their women, others with drinks all eager to see a fight and hopefully leave with more money than they came with.

"Found our man" Aramis whispers to Athos when they take their seats, "across from us to the right"

Athos looks in the direction Aramis indicated, their target is easy to find thanks to having to have seen a recent picture of the man and the fact that Emile Bonniare apparently liked to draw attention to himself via clothing.

"He looks more like a businessman then a Slave Trader" Athos comments

Aramis shrugs just as the fight begins, the crowd roars as the first Fighter steps into the ring, a dark skinned man with an impressive scar on his leg, he is bare chested showing of his chest that while muscular was starting to show age, in his hand was a knife. The next Fighter steps in, and the crowd's roar gets louder, the man was dark skinned, younger and huge. He was also bared chested and stacked with muscles, unlike his opponent who only had one scar he was nearly covered in them and was weaponless though he didn't seem bothered by it; in fact he seemed almost bored really.

Aramis gives an impressive whistle.

The two Fighters stare at each other, until the older grins (sadistic and murderous) and lunges at his opponent. The other fighter dodges the knife aimed at him, and punches the other; the older Fighter doesn't even stumbles.

"The younger one" Athos says as he watches, "he knows how to use his speed and strength"

"And not afraid to fight dirty either" Aramis chuckles when the younger knees his opponent in the groin.

"I believe that's a given considering"

"Right"

The screaming crowd if possible becoming louder when the older Fighter cuts the younger's arm with his knife, it's not a deadly cut but it draws blood all the same and that excites the audience. It also seem to anger (or annoy in Athos's opinion) the younger fighter for he suddenly he becomes faster, dodging attacks and countering with his own until he is able to get the knife into his own hands.

Athos looks away from the fight to their target who is whispering to another man, no doubt the man in charge of the fight or possible the owner of the one of the fighters. The crowd suddenly going quiet has him looking back at the fight, the younger Fighter is standing over his downed opponent, and the knife in his hand is coated in blood.

The older Fighter isn't moving.

The Musketeer looks over at Aramis prepared to ask what he had missed but stops when he sees the expression on his friend's face, it was a look of awe.

"Aramis?"

Aramis blinks; he mumbles to himself but says nothing to Athos.

"He's moving" Aramis then says.

Athos looks back at their target to see both Bonnaire and the other man get up and make their way out of the cheering crowd, the two wait up for a moment before getting up and following, keeping careful distance they follow the two men to a backroom.

"I suppose we wait then" Aramis says as they peek around the corner looking at the closed door which was guarded.

"We wait" Athos agrees

They didn't have to wait long, the door reopens this time with Bonnaire and the younger Fighter only, Athos frowns at the shackle and chains on the Fighter.

"Wonderful doing business with you" Bonnaire calls over his shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow, come along Porthos"

Both Musketeers duck behind barrels when Bonnaire and Fighter walk by them, Aramis peeks from behind them, stiffens when the Fighter looks over his shoulder and straight at him, the two stare at each other before the Musketeer presses a finger to his lips, ducking down when Bonnaire comes over after realizing that the Fighter was no longer following.

"Porthos?" he says.

The Fighter called Porthos looks away.

**19 Years Ago**

He is fifteen now (according to Bonniare), it's been years since he's capture and his mother's death (once again according to Bonnaire, it's been three years), he hasn't been sold yet, the slave has a feeling it's because Labarge has yet to break him.

The metal door opens; he stands and listens to the footsteps.

"Chowtime"

Porthos's eyes narrow in hate at the sound of the man's voice, he backs away when his door is opened, he waits for his food to be slide inside and the door to close again. It doesn't.

"Come and get it mutt" sneers the guard, holding out the food tauntingly.

Porthos doesn't move.

The guard huff in annoyance and throws the bowl to the ground, its contents spilling on the cell floor, Porthos glances at it but remains still.

"Eat it dog" orders the guard.

Porthos doesn't move, the results will be the same regardless of what he does, sure enough the guard growls, unraveling his whip as he enters the cell. He grabs Porthos by the arm and throws him down on the floor, his face inches away from the now spoiled food, he grunts when a boot slams his head into the food and ground.

"I said, eat it"

He and this guard play this game nearly every day since he's been here, a game he never wins and always ends with him bruised, scarred and bloodied. The pressure of the boot is lifted and he's kicked in the face, groaning he curls into a ball just as more kicks come raining down.

Three years of this, a consist pattern.

He's tired of it.

The guard lifts his foot to stomp on him once again and is thrown off when his foot is grabbed by a surprisingly strong grip, Porthos pulls and the guard is on the ground with him, rage surges and red clouds him, when the cloud finally lifts, he is being pulled off the guard, his hands ripped away from the man's neck.

The guard isn't breathing.

He is brutally whipped that day and gains a scar on his right eye, it is also the day he is chained and shackled.

**Present**

The house was medium in size, plain enough that no one would give it a second glance; it had a large cellar which was perfect housing the slaves they brought with them.

"Still wasn't able to sell it again?" says Labarge when Bonnaire enters through the 'back door' Porthos behind him.

"Afraid not, but our dear friend is coming to visit tomorrow so another opportunity" Bonnaire says watching as Porthos is taken down to the cellar.

"Right"

Down in the cellar, Porthos's leg shackles are chained to the floor, the guards put out all the torches that had been lighting the place expect for one as they go back up, leaving the slaves in semi-darkness.

Porthos sighs when familiar hands gently roam his bare chest and arms hissing when fingers brush against the cut, an apologetic kiss is placed on his bruised knuckles. Porthos lips twitch into a small smile before his brows furrow at the sudden filling of fatigue, but put it off with his body finally coming down from the high he always get during a fight.

Outside watching the house from afar in an alley across the street, Aramis and Athos nod to each other before making their way back to the Garrison to report to their Captain.

They found the hideout.

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_**Review Please!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Captured Hearts **

**9 Years Ago**

D'Artagnan learned that Porthos didn't like to be touched by him, and that's only after the other had touched him first; he especially didn't like to be touched unexpectedly and reacted violently.

It will take two years for D'Artagnan to be able to give the first touch; it'll take four years for Porthos associate the other's touch with the feeling of safety.

**Present **

Porthos was ill, his skin was hot yet his body shivered and he constantly mumbled about being cold, D'Artagnan tried his best. Wrapping the Slave up in the thin holey blanket, giving small portions of water and bits of bread, he rubs where it aches, did everything he could to make his Porthos better.

Expect get the Slave Masters.

For one, he knew they'd back down eventually, hopefully by then Porthos would be better, the other reason is because he knew that Labarge would use this sickness as an excuse to finally get rid of the Slave; regardless of any protests Bonnaire may or may not do.

Sitting on the floor with Porthos curled up against him, head resting on his shoulder and his thick arm around his waist, D'Artagnan listens to the sounds upstairs as he rubs his hand up and down the arm around his waist, he pauses and frowns when he feels a sudden sticky wetness. He pulls his hand away and brings it up to his nose, what he smells has him reeling back in disgust, he doesn't know what that smell means but he has a feeling it isn't good.

Sometime later he must have dozed off because he is suddenly awakened by shouting, the thunder of rapidly moving feet and gunshots from above, pulling the sleeping Porthos closer to him D'Artagnan and the other Slaves look up and wait. The noises eventually die down to soft murmurs and gentle shuffling, thinking it's nothing D'Artagnan turns his attention back to Porthos, he frowns when he found the skin hotter than before, the frown becoming deeper at the confused mumbling.

Suddenly the door opens, and D'Artagnan feels his whole body freeze, his heart starts to pound when footsteps start to descend. Then there is the glow of a torch.

"Shit" says an unfamiliar voice, "down here!"

More footsteps come down followed by more lit torches, all the Slaves blink when more torches are lit giving them light.

"Dear God"

The Slaves and men stare at each other until finally one of the men speaks.

"Alright, let's get them out of here"

D'Artagnan watches as one by one the Slaves are unshackled and unchained then brought up and out the cellar, the young Slave blinks when a man kneels before them.

"Hello there" says the man with a smile, it then that he notices Porthos, "my friend from the fight, I was wondering if I'd see you again…you don't look well"

D'Artagnan watches as the man feels Porthos's forehead, the man frowns before looking over the man's body, the frown deepening when he notices the injured arm. The man suddenly starts barking orders, confused D'Artagnan then watches as he's released and gently taken away from Porthos by another man.

It's only when they get to the foot of the stairs that D'Artagnan stops and looks over his shoulder at Porthos, the moment the man touches Porthos, the Slave's hand grabs the man's waist in a tight grip. The Slave's fierce eyes looking into the man's.

"Erm, hello?" says the man.

Porthos punches him.

D'Artagnan's eyes widen when three other men come and hold down Porthos.

"Hold him!"

"We are!"

One of the men is kicked back, and another is punched, D'Artagnan moves only to be stopped by the man who had been leading him out, the man pulls him up the stairs, D'Artagnan pulls back struggling against the grip. The two struggle until finally D'Artagnan bites down hard on the man's arm, the man gives a surprised yelp letting go of the slave, freed D'Artagnan rushes over back to Porthos.

He dodges failing hands and settles on the older Slave's lap, his small hands grabs hold of Porthos's face and they lock eyes, everything is silent expect for Porthos's harsh breathing as the two stare at each other. Finally, Porthos's eyes roll back and his body drops onto the floor in a dead faint.

**9 Years Ago**

D'Artagnan had stopped speaking altogether during his first year here, having learnt through Porthos and experience that there was no point (unless spoken to, and even that was a bit tricky) besides Porthos understood him just fine and that was all that mattered to the child.

The metal door opens, the child stands and waits, the footsteps tell him it's not Porthos, instead it's the guards in charge of feeding them. He doesn't move from the back of the cell when his door opens and his food is slid in, nor does he move when his door is closed.

"Don't know why the bosses are keeping him" says the guard to his partners as they continue doing the feeding rounds.

"I heard that it's because he keeps that rapid dog in line" says his partner.

"That's hard to believe" scoffs the other guard, "brat doesn't do anything but sleep or stare, plus he's so damn skinny"

"Maybe the mutt's fucking him" the guard shrugs.

The other guard laughs.

When they leave and the metal door closes, D'Artagnan makes his way to the waiting food, he sits down and begins eating putting aside some for Porthos when he comes back, as he eats he decides to ask Porthos what "fucking" meant when the other Slave came back.

**Present **

When Aramis and Athos enter, both men pause to take in the sight; beds on each side, all occupied by newly rescued slaves who were being attended to by physicians, they greet the head physician before heading to the bed at the end.

The occupant of the bed was awake and sitting up, quietly allowing the physician to look at his arm that had been infected, while his other arm was wrapped around the waist of another slave that was asleep in his lap using his naked chest as a pillow.

"Hello" says Aramis.

The slave –Porthos, Aramis remained himself- looked at him.

It's been three days since the raid, after reporting their findings Captain Treville had stationed two Musketeers to watch the house during the day, that night a dozen Musketeers (Athos, Aramis, and the Captain included) burst into the house. Many tried to flee and only few escaped; Bonnaire and Labarge included, a quick interrogation had them going down into the cellar where they found the slaves.

"I had expected you to be still out" Aramis says to the staring man, "poison tends to take a lot out of people recovering from it"

The man blinks, before his attention is taken by the lad who was waking up, the lad blinks and yawns. He smiles at Porthos and seem content to go back to sleep if he hadn't noticed Athos and Aramis, to the surprise of the Musketeers he snarled and growled at them.

Athos's lips twitched amused, the snarling and growling was about as threatening as a puppy, looking back at Porthos, the man was looking at the lad in surprise.

"Don't worry" Aramis then chuckles, "we're not going to take him away from you, we've learnt our lesson, especially Athos here"

While treating Porthos the lad hadn't the other's side, he refused to be moved and had even bitten Athos when the Musketeer tried to get the lad to move.

The lad gives him a weary look but doesn't growl at them again.

"What's your name?" Aramis then asks the boy.

The lad blinks at him.

"He doesn't speak" says a soft voice from the bed next to them.

She was an older woman with dark long hair; she was beautiful even with the purple bruise on her cheek and old eyes. Athos goes over and on the chair near the bed.

"He doesn't speak, none of us really do" she says to him, "no point in doing so"

"You are speaking to me" Athos says.

"It's safe here….it is safe here isn't it?"

Neither men liked the fearful tone in the woman's tone, and made them wish Labarge, and Bonnaire hadn't escaped.

"Yes, it's safe here" Athos says.

The look in the woman's eyes said she didn't truly believe him, her time in a cage had taught her not to trust words and Athos couldn't blame her.

"Do you know the lad's name?" Athos then asked changing the subject.

"D'Artagnan"

"_It suits him" _Athos thought before asking more questions, "the two of them were together while you and the others weren't, why is that?"

"Because D'Artagnan is Porthos's" answers the woman.

"….I'm sorry, I don't understand" Athos says after a pause to think over the statement and try to make sense of it.

"D'Artagnan….was given to Porthos because D'Artagnan keeps Porthos obedient"

Aramis looks over at Porthos, who was quietly watching the conversation, from the way the woman spoke she made it sound like the man was violent, true he had seen an ferocity during the fight that was both impressive and frightening, looking at the man now he had a feeling there was more to it, of course no one truly knew what went on in Slave Trades. A sudden noise brings the Musketeer out of his thoughts, jumps when he suddenly finds himself nose to nose with Porthos.

"Erm?"

To his bewilderment, the large man sniffs him.

"Erm?"

Porthos tilts his head before turning his attention back to D'Artagnan, settling him back on his lap when the lad had obviously had fallen off when the other had moved and pressing his head back down on his chest, Aramis turns to an equally bewildered Athos.

"Erm?"

After that Athos and Aramis spent most of the time talking to woman learning as much as they could, they learnt that D'Artagnan been in the Slave Trade since the age of five, sharing a cage with Porthos; he was left alone because of it; though occasionally he was on the receiving end of abuse. Porthos was taken to fight rings and more often than not was the focus of Labarge and his men, Bonnaire seem to favor him a bit though. The guards there were weary of Porthos and he was the only one shackled and chained when in his cage or cell.

The things the woman told them that went on in the Trade, the things the other slaves had suffered made them both shiver and boil with anger; soon they were forced to leave so the patients could rest.

When they return to their home, dinner has once again been made and was waiting for them; Aramis makes their plates and sits down.

"Athos" Aramis says after a moment.

And it's all that he needed to say.

Three days later the guest bedroom was cleaned and aired out, both Musketeers went to their Captain to inform them of what they were going to do, the Captain was as expected, surprised and looked like he wanted to ask but decided not to. Instead he wished them luck and gave them a few days off to settle in their new house guests.

When they returned to the sick house, they told the head Physician that they were taking D'Artagnan and Porthos.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own BBCAmerica **

**A/N: This chapter contains rape!**

**Captured Hearts **

The Physician didn't let Aramis and Athos take Porthos and D'Artagnan to their new home until early the next morning.

"The less people around them, the more calm they will be" he had said, "trust me, I've dealt with this before"

Now, the two Musketeers were standing in the middle of their home with two new roommates who merely stared at them.

"Right then" Aramis says after clearing his throat, "I'll show where you'll be sleeping, this way"

D'Artagnan and Porthos both follow the man up the stairs and down the hall until they got to a closed door, Aramis opens it and walks in, the two follow.

"Well here we are, you two will be sleeping here, sorry there is only one bed, we'll get another one soon"

Aramis watches as his new roommates look around the room, they didn't move to touch or look at anything; finally they turn their attention back to Aramis who squirms nervously under they're gaze, clearing his throat once again, he heads over to the bed where clothing was waiting.

"We brought you some new clothes, the best money can buy courtesy of Madam Bonacieux. We figured you would want to change out of you…current clothing"

Said current clothing couldn't really be called clothing to begin with, it couldn't even be called rags, Aramis supposed the best word would be loincloth, and that was being polite.

"So, I'll just leave you two to it" the Musketeer then says.

Both Porthos and D'Artagnan watch him as he heads out the door, "Athos and I will be downstairs if you need anything" he says before closing the door.

Once the door is closed behind him, Aramis heads down the kitchen, he is surprised to see Athos slicing up bread and cheese instead of drinking wine like he expected.

"How did they take their new sleeping quarters and clothing?" Athos asked.

"Don't know, just blank expressions" Aramis says, "I believe we may have been a bit hasty in taking them in"

"True, but what's done is done, and they are our responsibility now"

Aramis nods in agreement, whatever happens now they will handle it no doubt, after Athos had finished plating the food, Aramis went back up to get their guests. He knocked and waited, opening the door when he realized he wasn't going to get an answer, he found that the two hadn't changed into their new clothes; instead they seem to have made themselves at home on the floor. Position across from the door, the large man was sitting with his back against the wall, D'Artagnan on his lap. Porthos looked at Aramis; his expression was blank unlike D'Artagnan's, who seemed both curious and weary.

It hits Aramis then in there that perhaps they could not handle this after all.

**19 years ago**

Buckets upon buckets of cold water is thrown on him, soaking wet and shivering he is then thrown into a warm room with a lit fireplace, no windows; a small table and a bed in the corner. Bonnaire is there waiting. The Slave Master frowns at the dripping Slave.

"Could have at least dried you off, really" he grumbles as he goes to the door.

Bonnaire sticks his head out and yells for a towel, when he has it in his hand, the Slave Master moves to the still standing Slave. Porthos tenses when the man comes near, growling slightly, Bonnaire stops before giving a small smile.

"Don't worry; I just want to dry you off" he says.

With a weary look, Porthos watches as the man moves closer, he flinches when the towel touches him, but remains still as he's dried off.

"There, isn't that better?"

Porthos doesn't answer, instead he watches Bonnaire tosses the towel in the corner, and goes over to the small table, on it was a bottle and pours the wine into both cups. He then takes both of them in hand and goes back to Porthos, the Slave stares down at the cup presented to him.

"Go on" Bonnaire encourages.

Porthos glances at the patiently waiting man, and then back at the cup, he takes the cup.

"Drink up"

Porthos does, blinking at the taste, before his capture he had tasted wine twice, he still remembers the sweet and slightly dry taste, the wine given to him tasted nothing like those times.

"Good, isn't it, got it on my last trip in Brazil. Has a certain sweetness that I find appealing"

Porthos says nothing as he finishes his wine, he is startled when it's refilled, it's when he's on his third cup does he suddenly feel….off. It's also when he notices that Bonnaire hadn't taken a single sip of his cup.

"I see the drug had finally set in"

He's pulled towards the bed and firmly pushed down on his back, the moment he hits the mattress does he go boneless and his vision gets hazy, the mattress deepens as Bonnaire gets into the bed with him

"We won't be needing these any longer"

His shackles are removed along with what clothing he has.

"You are an impressive sight indeed" Bonnaire purrs.

There is a pause then the ruffling of clothing being removed before hands roam over his body, a mouth latches onto his neck and bites, he gives an involuntary moan when a wet hand takes hold of his soft cock. He moans again when the hand tightens around his cock, and moves it up and down, his hips buck when the tip of his cock is gently scrapped by a blunt fingernail. Hazy eyes look at the one causing this pleasure, Bonnaire grins at him.

The Slave Master suddenly moaning pulls Porthos's attention to where the man has one hand behind him moving in a kind of rhythmic movement, suddenly the pleasure stops and his hips are straddled, he groans when a sudden tight warmth sinks down on his cock.

"You feel wonderful" Bonnaire moans.

The hazy feeling gets hazier as pleasure takes over, his hips buck up into the warmth that seemingly gets warmer and the tightness gets tighter, everything feels like it was going to explode. Dimly is he aware of his hands coming up and gripping Bonnaire's hips tightly and bucking up wildly, or the Slave Master's moaning "good boy"

Everything then explodes.

Panting, his hands slip off of Bonnaire, and he doesn't even grunt when the Slave Master slumps on top of him.

"Such…a…good…boy" Bonnaire pants.

When everything is clear, he's back in his cell, the taste of wine and something bitter in his mouth.

**Present**

Morning begins with Athos opening the door to his new housemates' room, the Musketeer is greeted with the sight of Porthos staring at him from his spot across the room, the large man's back pressed to the wall, in his lap and looking sleepily at him was D'Artagnan.

"Morning" Athos said, "breakfast is ready, come downstairs".

With the two former Slaves behind him, Athos heads to the kitchen, he had spent the whole night thinking of a way to deal with this situation. He came up with a few, but only one seem to be of any merit, which he discussed with Aramis who had then left for the Sick House to speak with the Head Physician early this morning. Hopefully he should be back soon with an answer.

"Sit and eat" Athos orders when they got the kitchen.

D'Artagnan and Porthos sat and begin eating, the portions were small like the day before, prior the Head Physician's instructions the day they came to get they're new housemates. Athos watches as Porthos gives most of his food to D'Artagnan just like before. Breakfast is quiet, broken only by the sound of Aramis returning.

"Good morning" Aramis greets the two former Slaves before making a plate of food for himself, "Athos, the Physician says to go with your idea for now, he also gave me a warning on not abusing our power, of course he was subtle about it".

Athos nods, before turning his attention back to D'Artagnan and Porthos, now that he got the approval it was time to put his plan into action.

"We're going to ask you some questions" Athos begins, "and we want answers"

Athos made sure his voice was firm enough for it to be an order, but gentle enough to be nonthreatening, judging from the way Porthos's eyes narrowed he didn't do a good job.

"Do you know why you're here?" Aramis asked.

"Because you brought us" Porthos says to they're surprise, they weren't expecting an answer.

Athos winces at how hoarse the man's voice sounded.

"Not exactly, but that doesn't matter at the moment, what matters is what we expect from you" said Aramis.

"What we expect from you is this." Athos continues on, "you're free to move about the house as much as you want, if you get hungry we to expect you to eat, if you want or need something, we expect you to tell us. Understand?"

Both hesitantly nod.

"Great! Now, any questions?" said Aramis with a smile.

Porthos turns his attention back to D'Artagnan, pushing the lad's plate closer to him, keeping an eye on the two Musketeers.

"I think that went well" Aramis then said.

**8 years ago**

D'Artagnan had grown, grown into something that gained attention, even Labarge paused to give the young Slave a once over. Porthos knew that it wouldn't be long before the boy would be taken to a room, just like him.

Porthos didn't want that.

There wasn't anything he could do about it…expect be the first, and also prepare D'Artagnan to want was about to come.

It was late into the night when he wakes D'Artagnan, he knows it's late because the men that guard the cells left and never came back, and the torches that were lit along the walls to give light had dimmed. Porthos lays the younger on the thin blanket he had spread out on the floor earlier, D'Artagnan blinks sleepily up at him; but he lays obediently as the older Slave removes what clothing he has.

D'Artagnan does give him a curious look when Porthos spreads his legs, the older Slave stares at the younger as he pushes pass the younger's arse cheeks, years of watching in the flickering dark has D'Artagnan's eyes widening in understanding. Porthos tilts his head in questioning and waits, he doesn't have to wait long.

D'Artagnan nods.

From what he could remember through his hazy moments with Bonnaire there is stretching involved along with a needed wetness, removing his finger he place it along with two other into his mouth, he wets them until spit is trailing down his hand. He pushes one finger inside, gaining a yelp at the sudden invasion, D'Artagnan whimpers when a second is quickly added. Porthos wiggles the fingers around before adding the third; D'Artagnan gives another painful whimper but doesn't try and get away.

After sometime he removes the fingers, he spits heavily into his hand and strokes his soft cock with it, getting it hard and wet.

Porthos then spreads an arse cheek with one hand and guides his cock in with the other, D'Artagnan makes a pained sound, Porthos stops gives places an apologetic kiss on his forehead before continuing to push in. He knows it hurts, both mind and body remembers despite the drugs, it will always hurt; but the first time is the worst. He suppose if he believed in luck, he would consider himself just that to have gained Bonnaire's interest instead of Labarge's , Bonnaire is at least patient when the man decides to fuck him. Porthos doubts Labarge would be so generous.

When he's all the way in, he remains still, fighting the urge to thrust into the tight warmth. Instead he grabs hold of D'Artagnan's legs bends them and leans forward, body covering D'Artagnan's, hands placed firmly on either side of the boy's head. Beneath him D'Artagnan trembles, teeth biting on bottom so not to make a sound, eyes shining with unshed pained tears as he looks up at Porthos. The larger man nuzzles the younger making soothing sounds, finally Porthos moves, thrusting into D'Artagnan, the younger's pained whimpers echo off the wall.

It fills like a long time before Porthos spills inside D'Artagnan; it takes all he has not to collapse on top of the body beneath him. Slowly he slips out, he then checks D'Artagnan, no blood good.

Using the blanket, he cleans D'Artagnan off before gently gathering him up in his arms, tomorrow night if possible, he'll show the younger what he's expected to do with his mouth and enter him again. By the time Labarge and/or his men make move Porthos hopes his D'Artagnan with be used to the pain.

Porthos enters D'Artagnan five times before he is taken from him one night (the men taking him away looking all too eager), returned to him the next morning dripping with cum, Porthos is relieved there is no blood.

**Present**

After breakfast the two men left, Aramis going up stairs and Athos out the house to run errands, leaving D'Artagnan and Porthos to themselves. D'Artagnan looks up at Porthos, questions in his eyes, questions Porthos could not answer. He was lost, everything was confusing. Everything about this house was confusing including the men who were now they're Masters…expect they didn't feel like Masters, and this house didn't feel like the cage, Porthos had been around both long enough to know what they felt like and none of this felt like it.

Like he said, confusing.

D'Artagnan tugs on his sleeve, pushing the thoughts away for a now, Porthos gathers what food is left on their plate and stands, with D'Artagnan's hand clenching the back of his shirt both of them go up to their room. Once the door is closed, D'Artagnan takes the food from Porthos and hides it away, with nothing to do, Porthos's thoughts are brought back to the confusing feelings. The more he thought about, the more he was coming to realize that what he felt from both the house and they're new Masters was…safety.

He didn't think he could feel that way anymore or even recognize it for what it was…he also wasn't sure what to do with it.

**10 years ago**

He doesn't remember his mother's face; he doesn't remember much to be honest, not even her name. What he _**does**_ remember is her voice. Gentle but firm, and every day until her dying day, with that voice she tells him, "When you fall on your knees, keep going. Crawl if you have to, but never stop. Stopping means forever staying on your knees".

At that time he didn't know what she meant, he does now, and he suppose that's what keeps him from breaking, for every fight he does, for every torture he's put through. For those times, where he feels like it's better to break then to stay strong, or those nights when he's holding D'Artagnan in arms and thinks it's better for the both of them to wrap his hands around their necks, and squeeze and squeeze until the last breath leaves them. He's mother's voice echoes in his head, telling him to keep going, and every time he listens, and keeps going.

**Present**

Surprisingly, it takes three days for D'Artagnan and Porthos to start moving about the house without it being because of an order, Athos thought it would take more time and more effort on their part, the two only went to as far as the kitchen, but like Aramis said; it was progress. Unfortunately for Aramis and Athos, neither D'Artagnan nor Porthos made a sound when they walked; Porthos gave Aramis a good fright when the large man suddenly appeared behind him, large body towering over him (D'Artagnan peeking from behind).

The good thing about the two moving about was that it gave the two Musketeers time to observe them, and while they still weren't sure how the two worked, they did learn that Porthos pretty much manhandled D'Artagnan, grabbing him and placing the younger where ever he wanted (mostly on his lap), he was affectionate with the younger; nuzzling him or kissing him on the forehead, and that was only if either men were able to enter the room without being detected.

Which brought them to they're other discovery, Porthos was protective of D'Artagnan, the large man never letting them get too close to the younger, growling and snarling if they were; and that's if they could somehow could get around the barrier that was Porthos.

D'Artagnan on the other hand, didn't make a sound what so ever, Athos was being to think the boy was a complete mute even though the woman told them he wasn't, and that the lad had growled at them that day at the sick house. He was also affectionate, and didn't mind the that Porthos manhandled him, or that Porthos answered any questions directed towards that that couldn't be answered with a nod or shake of the head.

To be honest they expected….more, yes there was that distrust, they saw it in the way both looked at them and the way body tensed when they got to close, but there was also this look of curiosity and a feeling of lost. Not the lost one found when met with a tragedy, but the kind of lost one found when encountered with an unknown.

Athos and Aramis knew that feeling well enough.

Days pass, and Aramis found himself in the kitchen on the final night before he and Athos had to resume they're duties, reading his favorite book by candlelight, Athos had retired to bed earlier; taking a bottle of wine with him. It takes him a while to realize he had company.

"Good Lord!" he yelps, jumping in his seat and dropping his book.

Porthos blinks at him.

Calming his racing heart Aramis picks up his book from the floor before turning his attention to the other, "This is the fourth time you've nearly scared me to death, I'm beginning to think you enjoy it" he says.

The Musketeer notices that for the first time that Porthos is alone, surprised but doesn't mention it, "What are you doing up?" he asked instead.

The man shrugs slowly as though he himself is unsure of why he was up and about.

Aramis studies the man, takes in his expression, and for a moment Porthos's blank mask falls and in its place is a look of lost before the blankness is back up, coming to a decision he pats the chair next to him.

"Sit" he orders.

Porthos sits.

Smiling, Aramis finds his page and begins to read aloud.

* * *

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